Walking side by side, we moved into the tunnel. There were two more video cameras, and numerous quarter-sized holes in the walls, irregularly spaced, and a sprinkler on the ceiling just ahead. The floor had a slight downward angle as it extended forward, and was completely covered with a thin layer of dry leaves.

“What do you think?” I asked, pointing at the sprinkler. “Death trap or safety precaution?”

As I took my next step, there was a sudden roar and I spun around to see the passage behind us closed off by a sliding cement door, casting us into complete darkness again.

Chapter 22

“LET’S LOOK at the bright side,” said Roger. “At least the rattlesnakes can’t get at us.”

We continued walking, the leaves crunching under our feet. Then a dart shot out of one of the holes in the wall, visible because of the unpleasant fact that its tip was on fire. The dart sailed across the tunnel, moving at a downward trajectory-it hadn’t been shot with much force. It hit the ground and the leaves underneath began to burn. We stepped over it and moved on.

Hey, I’d survived the other dart room with its cannon fire, I figured I could handle some flaming darts.

The sprinkler activated above us. It was a powerful one, shutting off after a couple of seconds but managing to do a fantastic job of soaking us in that time.

Unfortunately, the liquid we were soaked with wasn’t water, it was gasoline.

My nostrils burned and my various wounds (especially that damn shoulder) took on a searing new agony. Charlotte ’s sharp cry made it clear that the gasoline didn’t feel much better on her cut-up arm.

Now flaming darts seemed a bit more problematic.

One of them shot out in front of us. Fortunately, this situation had a fairly obvious plan of action to follow. Run like hell.

Roger and I seemed to understand this in unison, and took off down the tunnel. Darts continued to fly at us with every other step, but they weren’t firing quickly, and by running at top speed (or as fast as I could go in bare feet) we were able to avoid them. After a nice hundred-meter dash we reached the door at the end of the tunnel.

Unfortunately, Charlotte had elected for a slow and steady dart avoidance tactic, and we’d left a good dozen or so fires burning in her path.

A dart came so close to her that for a split second I had a hallucination of her bursting into flames.

“Just run!” Roger shouted.

Now the darts were firing more frequently. And faster.

Hot ashes from the burning leaves were swirling up into the air. How could we have been so stupid as to leave her behind? How could she have been so stupid as not to follow us?

And then I noticed a small control panel in the corner. I couldn’t be sure it was for the darts, but there wasn’t time to debate. I slammed the tip of the machete into it, sending out a flurry of sparks and half-expecting to be electrocuted.

The darts stopped firing. I remained unelectrocuted, though the gasoline fumes were making me sick and a little lightheaded.

Charlotte still stood there, soaked with gasoline in a burning hallway. There was no way she could avoid all of those ashes, so she hurried back the way we came. She leapt over the area where the sprinkler had drenched us, and I waited for it to go off, touching one of the flames and engulfing Charlotte in an inferno.

The sprinkler went off.

It touched one of the flames.

And Charlotte vanished into a huge inferno.

Roger and I stood there, absolutely stunned.

The ball of fire disappeared as quickly as it had come. And we saw Charlotte pressed tightly against the closed entrance, looking utterly freaked but miraculously devoid of sizzling flesh.

“Fuck both of you!” she shouted.

This appeared to be a fair statement, so we didn’t argue. Charlotte got down on her hands and knees and began shoving away the leaf cover, creating a gap that would let the fires burn themselves out before they reached her.

“What next?” I called out.

“I’m not going anywhere for a few minutes,” Charlotte replied. “You guys might as well go on ahead.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” I asked.

“Obviously I have no clue what’s a good idea in this place. But if the two of you want to check out the next room, that’s sure fine by me. I’ll just hang out here.”

I looked at Roger and he shrugged. “All right,” I called out to Charlotte. “Follow as soon as it’s safe.”

My immediate concern was that another sliding door might seal her off, but that didn’t seem likely since there was a regular door at the end of this tunnel rather than another open entrance.

I opened it. More darkness beyond. Wonderful.

“Enjoy yourselves!” Charlotte said, waving.

With the machete out of front of me, I walked into the next room. Another sprinkler went off, drenching us again. But this time it was ordinary water. Kind of refreshing, actually.

“How considerate,” Roger remarked. “I guess they’re not such bad chaps after all.”

“Yeah, I guess it wouldn’t be much fun if their victims passed out from gas fumes before the really nasty stuff could happen.”

While it would have been nice to take some water back to Charlotte, we certainly had some explosive residue left on us and the risk of running back down the tunnel was too great. So we opened the door and walked into the next room.

As we entered, some lights came on. Bright, colorful lights. Carnival music began to play. The room was huge, and the first thing we saw was a large, multi-colored banner: “Welcome to Deathworld!”

“All the effort he must’ve put into this place, and the guy can’t come up with anything better than Deathworld,” Roger muttered. “What a sad state of affairs.”

Two wooden poles held up the Deathworld banner. Each pole had an artificial corpse tied to it, the arms stretched out like scarecrows, the throats slit and the eye sockets hollow. There was a small yellow Post-It note attached to one of them.

I pulled it off and read it out loud to Roger: “ Replace with the real thing.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to make us beta test this place,” said Roger. “We should file a complaint and ask to be let go.”

“Hey, if we see them around, it’s worth a shot.”

We walked under the banner and into the main part of the carnival. It consisted of one sawdust path, with exhibits on each side of it. In the center of the path stood a life-sized plastic clown with oversized shoes, a purple and pink wig, and a big red nose. The clown was holding a wooden sign that said “Press My Nose!”

“I don’t want to press its nose,” said Roger.

“I think we probably should press its nose,” I remarked. “It’s all part of the game. Otherwise, we won’t be able to get out.”

“Make you a deal,” said Roger. “You press the nose and I’ll tell you what a good job you did.”

There wasn’t time to argue. I pressed the nose.

“Good job,” said Roger, patting me on the back.

The clown’s eyes lit up, and it let out a loud giggle as its head began to turn back and forth. “Hi there, kids!” said the clown in an incredibly annoying, high-pitched voice. “Welcome to Deathworld! I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun if you follow a few simple rules. Rule number one: Don’t litter! If you lose an arm or a leg or a head, pick it up and take it with you…leave Deathworld as beautiful as you found it!”

“I hate clowns,” said Roger.

“Rule number two: No outside food or drink! You don’t want to pass up our brain burgers, esophagus dogs, or blood shakes, now in type A negative! Rule number three: Watch your step, because at any moment you could…” The clown’s head began to spin around three hundred and sixty degrees, and its voice transformed into a low demonic roar. “…DIE DIE DIE DIIIIIE!”